


What You Will Become

by TheQueenSylveon



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 08:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5778850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueenSylveon/pseuds/TheQueenSylveon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The scavenger had made it easy, questioning the Order and its purpose, but it was always harder once alone with her thoughts. Harder still with the girl so near.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Will Become

The sound of her feet was loud, deafening, so sure and firm as she marched through the base. It was not the same sweep as it was before, her cape gone and any emotion left trapped beneath the glinting armour. There was no pride in her steps, no confidence. There was nothing, that was how she needed it. Her men would still fear her, taking the silent turmoil for anger, the way she clutched her gun as a warning, not a shield from unwanted questions. The trembling anguish could not be distinguished from from an uncontrolled fit of rage not unlike what Kylo Ren would deign to, and it kept the troops from coming too near her.

There was a longing in her, but not for the girl. She wanted to be sent to be reconditioned, to have the filth wiped from her, the guilt stripped from her, but what she had done was no minor infraction. Reconditioning was not punishment for such things, only death would be suitable. She was a danger to the First Order, a crack in their armour, and she knew, she knew it so strongly and surely, that the girl would not use her like that, and yet what she knew was nothing next to the fear of an army.

Where the girl had bit still ached, and she felt a twitch in her neck where the mark rested. No one could see it, no one knew it was there. She was being paranoid, there was no way they could know. Still she ached to adjust her undershirt, make sure the skin of her neck was covered. Her hand did not move from her gun, and her eyes did not stray from the corridor ahead of her.

It felt filthy, to walk through her ranks as she was. The girl was all over her, her scent burnt into her skin she was sure, the touch of her fingers having tainted her so thoroughly, and her whispered words were still at her ear. A promise of quiet love, yet the girl did not know love. Neither did Phasma, but she was not concerned by that, not like she had been as a girl. There was no use for love, no place for it. Respect and mutual trust, perhaps, but not love. Yet the hairs on her neck prickled and stood on end as she made to replay the soft words again.

She wanted to cast off her armour, throw it aside piece by piece, and collapse, trembling and screaming. Screaming those words that ate away the girl's promise. Traitor. Rebel. Weak. She was all of it, and she could not deny it. The mark on her neck branded her as a traitor to her cause, no better than any member of the Resistance.

A quiet rage shook her, the hand on her blaster trembling. Her men stared, some of them backing away, retreating back around corners or into adjoining corridors. Their fear eased her screaming mind, but only for a moment. The sight of her troops made the anger worse.

What would they think, to know that their Captain had betrayed them? Had bent her head to the Resistance girl's quivering sex, and touched her from head to ankle with as much fervour and passion as she put into her training. What would they think of her then, knowing she had loved it? Knowing how she had grunted and moaned deep in her throat, letting the girl hold her hair like reigns and command her with such ease.

Firing a warning shot into the air, she sent her men scattering, needing them gone from her sight before she truly snapped. One, however, remained, having slunk out of a side passage. Even through their helmet she could sense the fear in them as they approached.

“Captain, we have the girl. Hux said you would want to deal with her.” the Stormtrooper was almost trembling, the blaster in his hand shaking as he looked up at her. “If you're busy, we can send someone e-”

“No,” Phasma interrupted him, already sweeping past him with that familiar pride and confidence. “The girl is mine to handle.”

-

The private chambers of the Captain were dark, always dark, not near so flooded with artificial white light as the rest of the base. It meant that even out of her gear, Phasma did not have to see herself, and would not have to face what thoughts edged at her mind as she rested. There was no chance to feel that disconnect once the helmet was off and she was stripped bare, and yet as she had with all things, the scavenger changed that.

Rey never wore armour, and it first it had seemed a great weakness. She neglected her own protection, left her flesh bare and vital organs exposed. Foolish at first glance, an error of the inexperienced, yet as she grew closer to her, it became clear it was the very opposite. It was a show of bravery, not neglect, that she would trust so greatly in her own skill as to leave herself unprotected. Phasma could respect that, as she had come to respect much else about the girl.

Glancing over to her armour, eyes finally leaving the body beside her own, she felt just as exposed. It was a weakness, for her to be out of her armour. She felt naked without it, not because of any lack of skill or confidence, but it was a part of her, as surely as her title and position. It was part of who she had become, and again she wondered if she liked who that was, if it was healthy to put an identity to the metal suit.

She sighed. At least she could distinguish that there was a difference between who she once was and who she sat there becoming. That was, at least, a start.

As the girl shifted, reaching out for something, Phasma turned back to watch her. She dropped her hand to her, and the girl clutched at it like a child clutching a doll. Like all things in her life, Rey held it like it was all she had, and she smiled in her sleep to feel the fingers wiggle for her. There was something still so childish in her, and it made the guilt all the worse. The shame seemed to join it, twisting in her gut and up to her throat, as if trying to escape through her mouth.

Again she had to cast her eyes aside, unable to watch the girl as she slept, so weak to her. It was foolish. No, she reminded herself, it was not stupidity. The girl trusted her, she had given her reason to, it was not a mistake. Swallowing the guilt, Phasma stared at the armour again.

There was a wonder in her, at how Rey had come to respect her, even after her inability to fully defect from the Order. Perhaps they had been right about her, that the Force was strong in her, and she had sensed who she really was. Had been, she supposed, as she watched the armour glint in the low light. She wondered if it was that woman she sensed that she respected and had tried to seek out as a companion, instead of the Captain. She wondered if it was pity and not respect, or a need to play the hero and bring her to the Light. She wondered which was worse.

The girl moved again, and this time her eyes opened. A smile pulled at her lips as she looked at the hand clutched in her hands, before letting her eyes follow the hand to the arm, and then up to the woman's face. No helmet, Rey noted, and took it as a personal victory.

“You stayed.”

“You would have been weak to threats on your own.” even as the words left her mouth, Phasma knew it was a pathetic excuse. She expected the girl to correct her, to remind her she had slept alone all her life and had never been in any danger before. Instead, she simply nodded and closed her eyes again. No chance of sleep, but she could rest.

“Thanks.” Rey murmured, resting her head back against the makeshift pillow. It was then that Phasma stopped wondering. Rey respected her, saw her as a companion, whatever that would lead to entail, and that was enough.


End file.
